Mysterious Awakening - Chapter 112: Leaving the Village

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation

The ominous spirit that had plagued the village was now trapped inside a unique artifact known as the ghost coffin. With its confinement, all the supernatural events that had tormented the villagers temporarily ceased. The oppressive, darkened sky, which had previously cast a blanket of darkness over the village, slowly began to brighten, lifting the terrifying night’s hold.

However, with the departure of the night, Yellow Hill Village itself began to fade away as the village was the epicenter of this paranormal event.

As the morning sun’s rays illuminated it, the houses, pathways, and landmarks looked like they were sketched onto fragile paper, gradually blurring and vanishing from sight.

The malign spirit’s influence on the village disappeared with its confinement within the ghost coffin.

Miles, who was engrossed in transferring objects to a vehicle, paused and took note of the changing environment. His face showed a hint of unease.

“The whole village is evaporating right before our eyes,” Stretch, nursing an injury, exclaimed in disbelief.

“It’s just a temporary vanishing act,” Miles explained. “The moment that spirit breaks free from the coffin, Yellow Hill Village will manifest itself once again. But what form the spirit might assume next is unpredictable. Its strength might surge, becoming an even greater threat, possibly reaching an ‘S-level’.”

Records indicated that the paranormal episode in Yellow Hill Village was ranked as a ‘B-level’ threat – a significant hazard. This was because the specter haunting the village wasn’t the type to roam aimlessly, which limited its potential for harm. Nevertheless, the level of sheer terror it incited was high.

For individuals specialized in managing or domesticating ghosts, tackling this spirit without discerning its behavior would likely be fatal. A direct, informed approach from the get-go was the only way to potentially contain it.

Should anyone fail in their initial attempt to dominate the spirit, its power would burgeon, multiplying at an alarming rate. Such a formidable entity would be near impossible to contend with.

Stretch mused, “Wouldn’t it be better if this ghostly village remains hidden forever? The malevolence of that spirit is beyond our comprehension. If it ever returns, our troubles might be far more severe.”

“That’s a challenge for another day,” Miles said as he stowed away a body bag holding the remains of a man named Frank. “There are entities out there that are even more terrifying. We just have to tackle each issue as it comes.”

“What’s the plan for the ghost coffin? Will you just abandon it here?” Stretch asked, concern evident in his voice.

“No way. We’ll transport it. Its potential for research is vast. Our primary objective on this mission was to procure this artifact. I’m confident a certain corporation will pay handsomely for it. By the way, Stretch, you look unwell, almost ghostly yourself. Do you want me to help you?”

“No need,” Stretch responded, anxiety evident as perspiration formed on his brow. He fully grasped Miles’s underlying insinuation.

Miles seems to have a sinister intent. Stretch might end up as a commodity, much like Frank, who was already prepared for shipment.

“It’s truly unfortunate,” Miles mused, looking at Stretch. “If that malevolent spirit awakens from with you, your worth diminishes considerably. At least if you’re sealed away now, you’re not an immediate threat.”

Stretch felt a twinge of anger and disbelief. His lips curled slightly as he responded, “Your audacity never ceases to amaze me. Instead of scheming to sell others, have you ever considered offering yourself up? Do you really believe other ghost tamers would stand idly by and let you proceed unchallenged? Given the choice, anyone would stand against your plans, even if it meant the potential reawakening of our wicked spirit.”

Miles raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Well, if you’re not on board, so be it. But remember, I did save your life back there. The least you could do is help me transport this coffin to the car.”

Stretch glanced over at the vehicle Miles was pointing at. “That’s Sheng’s luxury sports car. That coffin is massive. How do you expect to fit it in there?” he challenged.

Miles smirked confidently. “Leave the how to me. I just need you to help with the heavy lifting.”

Feeling cornered and somewhat obligated, Stretch sighed, “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

Shortly thereafter, two sleek sports cars made their way out of the village. One of them had been significantly altered to accommodate the massive, ornate red coffin. Its trunk was practically torn apart to make space, greatly diminishing the car’s aesthetic and value. The ghost coffin, meanwhile, was laid across the back seats, tied down firmly with ropes to ensure its lid remained sealed during the journey. The entire ordeal felt like they were teetering on the edge of calamity.

Although Miles had garnered substantial rewards from this adventure, it came with potential repercussions. It was a toss-up whether to revel in the success or fret about the looming challenges. However, the palpable menace – the malevolent ghost – was, for now, dormant. Its resurgence was postponed, and Miles had bought himself some valuable time.

As the duo drove away from the village, the primary road leading into Yellow Hill Village was buzzing with activity. Half the road was barricaded, with a fleet of vehicles stationed as a blockade.

Several tents and makeshift stations were erected. The scene was a blend of corporate representatives, official law enforcement, and researchers donning white lab coats. A helicopter also stood ready on a nearby open field.

Some officials took turns surveying the village using binoculars. The moment one of them detected the mysterious fading of Yellow Hill Village from his vantage point, he sounded an immediate alert.

“Emergency situation!” a man shouted in alarm. “Yellow Hill Village is not just fading – it’s completely vanished! There are two vehicles driving towards us from where the village stood.”

Another individual, with a set of binoculars hanging around his neck, quickly added, “I’ve identified the license plates. They’re registered to Sheng and Stretch, both recognized members of Cockroach Club from Spear City.”

Someone else pointed out, “I can spot a large coffin in the rear of one of those cars. This is no ordinary situation.”

“Immediately relay this intel up the chain,” an officer ordered.

The man nodded and began rapidly communicating the observed details to higher-ranking officials.

A short distance away, inside a temporary tent that had been quickly set up as a command center, key figures responsible for managing the situation were already in a deliberative session. Though termed a ‘strategy meeting’, in essence, it was a consultation on the potential challenges posed by any emerging ghost tamers, particularly someone like Miles.

The chief decision-maker in the room was Wesley. A man in his early thirties with a slightly stout build, he held the influential title of General Manager, supervising the vast operations of the entire organization. Given the peculiar nature of their enterprise – one that dealt with supernatural phenomena – Wesley’s authority wasn’t limited to just corporate matters; his influence extended throughout Spear City.

Gesturing emphatically, Wesley began, “Let’s be clear about our priorities. The paranormal event at Yellow Hill Village is undoubtedly an anomaly. But, frankly, I’m skeptical about Miles’s chances of emerging unharmed from it. The directives from HQ, led by Build, don’t overly concern me. Our presence here is largely symbolic, an act to demonstrate solidarity for another team. If, by any chance, someone genuinely resolves this predicament, we should uphold our end of the deal and proceed with the agreed-upon transactions. After all, the assets they’re pursuing remain safely within our grasp.”

The atmosphere in the tent grew palpable as attendees exchanged glances. Recent days had been stressful, compounded by the scrutiny of Interpol’s specialized Ghost Tamer Unit.

Sun, who had prior dealings with Miles, voiced his concern, “Sir, Miles is a wildcard. If he does manage to exit Yellow Hill Village and raises a commotion about those confidential files, how should we address it?”

Wesley shot back, “Such disputes are for HQ to manage, not us. If they have issues with their own affiliated ghost tamer, it’s their responsibility to address. The controversy surrounding those files started at their end, and our firm isn’t entangled in it. We’ve operated transparently, with perhaps a touch of strategic information withholding. They consciously undertook this mission, completely aware of potential hazards.”

He added, “A little ambiguity is business as usual. When both sides enter an agreement willingly, it’s unreasonable to point fingers when complications arise.” Wesley was resolute, firmly believing in the righteousness of his actions.

The file pertaining to the ghost coffin was strictly confidential. Under normal circumstances, no one would have even thought to involve civilian ghost tamers like the Cockroach Club members in retrieving such sensitive information. But after assessing the balance between potential risks and anticipated losses, the company made an unorthodox choice. They rolled out this mission, cleverly disguised as a mere business transaction.

Maintaining a veil of secrecy around certain critical aspects of the mission was paramount, even if it meant putting those involved at a higher risk.

Yet, from the company’s perspective, this was inconsequential.

Should the operation succeed, the company would secure what they sought. In the unfortunate event of a failure, they wouldn’t lose much. In the company’s eyes, the civilian ghost tamers were merely pawns on a board – invaluable, yes, but ultimately expendable.

To the company, these civilian ghost tamers were akin to volatile elements, unpredictable and potentially perilous. Therefore, sending them into the mysterious depths of Yellow Hill Village and leaving their fate to chance appeared to be the most logical move.

Wesley, confident in his judgment, felt that he had made the right call.

A member of his team voiced a concern, “Boss, it’s worth noting that the psyche of ghost tamers is inherently unstable. They’re not like the general populace. Their reactions can be erratic and explosive, somewhat like volatile criminals who might react disproportionately to trifles. We need to handle them with kid gloves.”

Wesley countered, “I’ve done my homework on the Cockroach Club members. All five, namely Sheng, Tian, Stretch, Yiming, and Page, are accounted for here. I’ve been through their psychological evaluations, and they appear to have stable profiles. As for Miles, I’m not entirely certain since his records are with Build. But as I mentioned earlier, I’d wager his chances of survival to be bleak given his age and lack of experience.”

No sooner had he voiced this opinion than a scout hurried into the tent, his face a mask of urgency.

“Sir, there’s an update,” the scout relayed, a hint of alarm in his voice. “Two vehicles are en route from the direction of Yellow Hill Village. Our facial recognition tech has identified Stretch from the Cockroach Club in one of them. The other car’s occupant is Miles.”

Miles survived?

A murmur of disbelief spread through the tent. The one person who was perhaps the most unpredictable and had once audaciously threatened to bring down the entire HQ with a mere phone call was alive and heading their way.

Wesley could feel an involuntary twitch at the corner of his lips.

Moments ago, he had all but declared Miles a casualty, and now, in a twist of irony, Miles was very much alive and on his way.

Nothing like having one’s assumptions overturned in a public setting!

Gathering his composure, Wesley announced, “Let’s step outside and see the situation firsthand.”